Freedom & Fireworks
by silversurf4
Summary: Charlie waxes philosophical about Independence Day and takes Reese with him.
1. Freedom

Tomorrow was the fourth of July. Independence Day. That meant a joyous day when people celebrated their freedom with barbeques, hot dogs, burgers, beer, fireworks, shorts, sparklers and fun in the hot California sun. Charlie Crews had none of these and he didn't tan. He did however have his freedom and that was something to celebrate, but with whom?

Ted was gallivanting around Europe searching for Olivia. Charlie sincerely hoped he found her and that it worked out in the way that so little few romantic gestures actually do – well. Happily ever after with champagne and fireworks and the Eiffel Tower; that's what he wanted for Ted and Olivia. Only a little of it was the part where it would hurt his father, just a sliver of vengeance… like a slice of lemon in a glass of cool, clear water.

Rachel was still away and when she called Charlie learned that she liked being somewhere new and being someone new. She enjoyed an existence where no one knew her past. She said it felt like being "born again" as her murderer preacher father talked about, only "more real than that." Her description made him smile. She sounded strong and resilient. She was finally moving past the millstone that had dragged her down for all those long years. Part of that weight he realized was attached to him. For her own good Rachel need to let it – and by extension him – go. It was Zen and therefore he embraced it, though his heart felt a little emptier knowing his sometimes niece wouldn't be returning to the marble mansion that only she made feel like a home.

He looked across his desk at the one person he kept avoiding examining – his partner, his one, the person he loved more than life itself and all it's precious freedoms. She belonged to someone else and that made him sad. He was determined not to be sad, but instead to be happy. Happy that she'd found someone with whom she could be content, possibly someone who could make her smile and laugh and that she'd be happy. No, not Reese he thought shaking his head to dislodge the idea from his brain.

Sure, Bobby had invited him to the pool party at his house, but Leslie had made it pretty clear last go round that his presence wasn't welcome at Casa de Stark. Meditation was out due to the constant and continuous homespun fireworks from the local grocers that lit the night sky from July 3rd to the 5th or 6th. Never were they restricted to just the actual holiday itself. His gaze flicked back to Dani.

"Any plans for the holiday?" He was a glutton for punishment.

She glanced up, scowled and shook her head in rapid succession. He couldn't tell if she was annoyed at the question, the interruption or just him, in general. It was quite possibly all three. This, his first week back, had been rocky for them as partners. It was as bad, if not worse, as their first ever. She was angry or sullen with him more than seemed fair, given their circumstance. But then they hadn't talked about that circumstance…. what led to her leaving for an FBI assignment, how he'd fared (poorly he thought) without her, why Roman chose her, why Charlie was as reckless as he had been and what all that meant… going forward. It was like reaching the end of a book and finding a great big "to be continued" mark with no idea when that ending might be known. It chaffed at them both and they rubbed each other wrong as a result.

That day in the orange grove she'd seemed at first relieved, then angry both emotions to extremes. He watched as she climbed from Bodner's car and struggled with her desire to touch him, to physically connect. In the end, she schooled herself and quietly asked simply if he was okay. He nodded and smiled. Then the moment was gone. She shook her head, opened her mouth twice to ask something that wouldn't leave her lips and then her scowl returned, she punched him and walked off. Sirens announced the arrival of the cavalry in navy blue uniforms with silver shields.

They hadn't talked. They never talked. He was suspended for a month. She was whisked away to a hospital for tests and the kind of torture that people fussing over her would be for Dani. He didn't visit; he was too busy with lawyers and IAD. By the time he got free, he was exhausted. He slept for three days, showered, ate and went looking for her. She wasn't at her apartment, she wasn't at her mother's and that left only one conclusion – she was at Tidwell's. He couldn't stomach that. He needed hours of distance, detachment and meditation before he could put on his plastic Zen smile and tell her how happy he was for her (again).

Now, he'd been back a week. He'd learned a lot about assumptions.

She wasn't with Tidwell. They'd broken up when the Captain forced too much mothering on her. She'd spent the week with a college roommate at the beach and then returned home to her mother's, mandated visits to the Department shrink and follow-up medical appointments she kept insisting she didn't need. Now that he sat three feet across from her again, she was struggling with the weight of what he'd done for her and the reasons behind it.

But Charlie was always the kid who kicked the hornet's nest – he remained that boy underneath. "No? No plans? No, you're not talking to me? What?"

She froze, exhaled forcibly, deliberately put down her pen, swiveled her chair and looked him dead in the eye. "I have no plans for the weekend." Her words were little bits of chipped ice. She seemed to consider saying more and then to his great surprise she did. "And if you are suggesting, what I think you are suggesting….then no – we are not talking about that here."

He was stunned into absolute silence. She'd seen right through his seemingly innocent question right to his pounding heart. He wanted to know if she was doing something; because if she wasn't…maybe she'd not do anything with him.

"Do you hear me Crews?"

"Uh- huh, uh…yeah…yes, I hear you," he stammered. Then softly under his breath he murmured, "I always hear you…even when you aren't speaking." Realizing his last thought was spoken aloud he blushed furiously and waited for her to bite his head off. Three years later and he still managed to not filter his thoughts when he should.

Her reaction was more startling than his fears. Her words and tone were softer, private, intimate and encouraging, "then listen to what I'm not saying and leave this for later."

He immediately returned to work and puzzled over those words for the remainder of his day. A couple times he turned to look at her, opened his mouth to speak and the slightest shake of her head and stern look stole his thoughts and silenced his idle tongue.

As the minutes ticked down to what was traditionally the end of their shift, time seemed to move backwards. He pulled at the collar of his shirt and loosened his tie. Any time now, she'd push back from her chair and that was the signal that work was done. _Then what happened?_

He didn't know and not knowing made him feel weird, tingly and slightly excited. It was a feeling he associated with tension, what Mark Rawls had called "earthquake weather." That's what she was like, a seismic shift, the earth moving under him, rolling and pitching like a ship in a storm. What little work he managed between her request that he leave it for later and quitting time was likely fraught with errors. He used to be so independent, so good at compartmentalizing, until Reese. She consumed his thoughts and held the lease on most of the real estate in his heart. She owned him; he wasn't free at all he realized.

"So….what is it you want to do?" her quiet tone signaled the beginning of later.

"I'd like to be free," he mused confusing her.

"Aren't you?" she wondered quizzically. She, of course, thought he meant prison.

"No," he felt his way, "I don't think I am. In a way, I'm still held fast…"

"By whom?" she said instantly angry. Crews' freedom was something he'd earned and she would not tolerate being impinged upon by anyone. "What's holding you now? Tell me," she demanded.

He pulled at his collar slightly embarrassed and shyly met her eyes, "you."

Shock then embarrassment, then understanding cycled through her eyes before she broke contact. "You're not asking for someone to watch the fireworks with you," her words told him that she understood what he was not saying.

"No, I'm not," he answered when his silence made her gaze return to him.

She examined her feet for moment, then her gaze shifted to the desk in front of her and then she steeled herself and met his stare. "I'll come by your place around 7 and we can figure out how to set you free," her tone spoke of resignation, not hope. It didn't seem as if their evening would include the kind of fireworks he hoped for.


	2. Fireworks

She showed up on time. She was dressed simply in a sedate, black dress and sandals. It should have been nice to see her like that, instead his heart raced and his mouth went dry. He wore jeans, no shoes and a black silk t-shirt that clung to his lean frame and accentuated the musculature his suits hid so well. They quietly mutually appreciated the change in their dynamic as he shepherded her through his still and empty house to the patio.

Dusk was falling across the city, painting the LA basin below in hazy shades of orange and long rays of yellow dimming light. It would be dark soon, but for now it was what photographers called the "golden hour" where things seemed gilded and yet somehow softer. His hair caught the sun and seemed afire with reds and golds. Her's shimmered in the long light appearing both brown and black at times. Her bronze skin soaked in the rays of the waning sun making her appear warm, when he knew she might not be.

The pool was still and clear and inviting, but not for them, not tonight. A pitcher of some sort of juice and tall clear glasses awaited them on a patio table. She noticed he chose not to quench his thirst with beer, although that was probably what he wanted as the tremor in his hand when he reached for the pitcher gave away his anxiety. He handed her the glass silently. Their fingers brushed in the exchange and summer lightening dispelled between them. Heat, light and energy filled the air.

"No hotdogs?" she joked.

"Uh, no," he laughed nervously. "Did you want hotdogs?"

She shook her head and her hair fell loosely about her face.

He longed to brush it away with his finger and may have even subconsciously raised his hand before catching himself. His brain fired a warning, m_ustn't touch Reese, she doesn't like that_.

She watched him correct himself. Sometimes his social awkwardness was heartbreaking. He hovered on the edge of reason for so long in prison that it took conscious effort to check his tongue and his behavior at times. This was one of those times she found herself wanting his conscious to fail and his impulse to win out. _Why else had she come over here? To his house where she knew he'd be alone? And she'd be alone with him? Where they'd be alone together. Shit, that was Crews talk. _She shook her head again trying to dispel her ever-increasing tendency to think like her partner. She watched him frown as he read her action for something it wasn't.

"Regret coming now?" he inquired.

"No," she practically yelped then stammered something she never did. "It's not….I was just thinking about something…something else…it's fine."

Awkward was the best descriptor for them at that moment.

Then she made it all better with a simple question. "Surely a guy like you….You must have better options. Why you want to spend this holiday with me?"

"I like to spend any day with you," he confessed and then realized he'd done it again. _Not filtered his thoughts._ He ran his hand through his hair and looked down. "I mean…" he began.

"I know what you mean," she told him flatly.

He looked up expectantly, "you do?"

She smiled and his heart stopped. "We don't have to pretend with each other. Not anymore. People are work. You have to be nice. Pretend they interest you. Pretend you care about their shitty little lives, their kids, their problems. Ya know?"

And he did. He hadn't connected with people since he got out. Not even Ted. He couldn't feel Ted's pain at being excluded from his daughter's life and his grandson. He knew he should understand it, empathize with him, but it was as though the whole world was behind a pane of glass – except Reese. She, he got.

"Yeah," he exhaled softly. "Yeah, I do. Except that we are still pretending - aren't we?"

"Baby steps," she cautioned. "I'm not there yet. We could really hurt each other. You know that right?"

"I'm tougher than I look," he boasted. "At least we're both single again."

"Yes," she confirmed. "Decidedly single."

"Not that you don't have options," he fished. "I'm sure that a lot of guys..."

"Watch it," she warned frostily.

"...want to go out with you," he finished strongly. He wanted her to know that the past was gone. He didn't hold it against her and didn't want to relive it. "Not just guys like me..."

"You mean millionaires who could have any women they wanted?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I just want someone I don't have to pretend with," he circled back around to their opening agreement.

"It doesn't help that we are both totally fucked up," Reese's dark humor couldn't be suppressed. "But at least we're not boring."

"To not being bored," he suggested a toast with their mocktails. Her wry smile let him know she understood and appreciated his gesture and the fact he was doing without a beer on her account.

"To never being bored," she returned.

After they clinked glasses and sipped socially, she learned the pitcher contained watermelon juice, kiwi and crushed mint leaves. She remarked it would be better with tequila earning her a frown from her partner before she confided in him.

"Relax I'm kidding," she smirked. "Back on the wagon, for eight weeks now."

"That's good," he complimented. "Great. With all you've been through, that you didn't feel the urge to…"

"Oh, I didn't say I didn't want it," she corrected. "I always want it. That's what makes me an addict."

His smile was sad and concerned and his eyes questioning. He held a conundrum in his head that he wouldn't loose with his tongue. She'd drank over less stressful things, but not this…_why_? _Did the thought of them together not frighten her? Or did it exhilarate her like it did him?_

She walked to the edge of the patio, surveyed the city below and when she felt his body heat beside her, she asked a simple yet probing question. "How is it exactly that I keep you from being free?" She was careful not to look at him, instead focusing on the twinkling lights of the city at dusk. The skyline was flecked with shining lights from street lamps, office building, the headlamps of cautious drivers and landing lights of planes on approach at LAX.

_She was so goddamned brave_ he realized. While she could often not examine her own demons, she would face down his and wring the life from them with her bare hands. He took his time in answering, but when he did it was heartfelt and true. "We are connected."

Her almost imperceptible nod of the head encouraged him to continue. He couldn't know that was precisely the conclusion she'd arrived at in that dingy basement and the observation she shared with Roman that infuriated the Russian beyond words. It was a deep truth they shared, they were connected in ways that had yet to be defined.

"You mean because of what my father, and by extension me…did to you," she floated a thought - a statement in the form of a question. Classic Reese.

"No," he said strongly. His tone drew her eyes. "Because of what you are to me, because of what you do to me."

She flushed a crimson that was impressive and wonderful. She understood what he meant. This wasn't about the vast conspiracy that threatened to envelope them both. This was about a man wanting a woman and that was something she knew a lot about. "Oh," was all she managed.

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me," he apologized. "And I understand if you don't feel the same…" he confessed his fears.

"I don't," she replied interrupting. Her answer was to the first part of his comment, but followed hard upon the second.

He couldn't know what she meant. His face held confusion tinged with the pain of rejection.

"You don't make me feel uncomfortable," she clarified.

His pained expression eased and he exhaled audibly. He didn't pursue the second portion of his statement. He didn't want the answer to be "no."

"I don't know how I feel about you, about us," she plowed ahead without fear or reservation. "There isn't really an us…" she murmured.

"I think there is," he said quietly. "I think there always has been."

"Maybe," she admitted but was careful not to encourage him.

"How do I make you feel?" he pressed.

"Crews," she whined slightly and turned away from the city. The mountains behind them had grown dark. Then she had a sudden epiphany. She knew the way to answer him without really answering him, "like that," she motioned to the darkness behind him.

He turned and stared into the dark trying to see what she did. He couldn't but Dani never left her partner hanging, so she explained it to him.

"I know the mountains are there. I can feel them. I can sense their greatness, their heights, their edges. From them I know I could see a long way and climb very high, but I could also fall very far, get hurt badly, maybe even die. I know all that even though I can't see them right now and that makes me cautious."

Charlie was silent for a long time appreciating what she'd said. Reese was being cautious. She was only cautious when the risk to her soul was great. She, like him, wasn't nearly as careful with her body as she was with her heart. "Only by walking alone in the dark can a man really find his way," he quoted a bit of Zen that struck him in the moment.

"Only a man would walk alone and in the dark," she contrasted their difference with her dark humor. "A woman would take a friend and a flashlight."

"I'm done with other people until we work this out," he laid himself bare. "You're what I want. You're all I want."

It was an ultimatum of sorts. One he felt he had to say, but one he felt she might not like.

Her response once again surprised him. "I know," she smiled.

Then as he wondered what would come next, the city of Los Angeles set off their traditional fireworks show high above the city. Rockets shrieked into the night burst into a cascade of lights. It was dazzling and inspiring, but he didn't watch the fireworks display. Instead he watched Dani watch the fireworks and in that act he found his joy at the day meant to celebrate independence. He watched as the brightness ebbed and flowed; colored lights played across her face or hid it in shadow.

The air was cool; the juice was sweet and his view unobstructed. She didn't notice him watching and therefore wasn't self-conscious. She made sense to him. Just as he was her mountains and she was his light. She illuminated his crevasses and edges. She made it safe for people to be around him. She lit his way and sustained him in dark times. He would never be alone in the dark, so long as he had her.


	3. Fleeting Thoughts

_Author's Note: Wasn't sure I was going to continue this, but then it's not like I'm writing just to fill the few months of hiatus before a new season and just guessing. So...here's something new. Reviews appreciated. Not sure where this is going...but it's moving away from the end to the start of something new. I suppose it's like that song "every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."_

* * *

It was the Monday after the holiday weekend. Most people in the squad bay were hung over and sun burnt. Crews and Reese were neither. Their holiday held an entirely different sort of illumination. On this morning, both burned from within; and the only one who saw or felt it was the other….and possibly Dani's ex.

"Crews," Tidwell barked, "my office."

The Captain's voice held a tense tone but his command was clear and unequivocal. While he spoke to the tall red haired detective, his eyes remained fixed on the man's diminutive brunette partner, who never even looked up from her desk. He scowled, drew the blinds and twisted the plastic rod that pivoted the blades to grant a moderate degree of protection from prying eyes. This conversation would only be as private as Crews let it be. It was a risk, one that might serve to drive Dani further away, but he had to know – in the way people have to know things that might hurt them, but they still have to know.

"What's up?" Crews wondered as he trailed the shorter man into his office. His tone bespoke ignorance, but Tidwell knew Crews to be quite savvy and probably onto why he was summoned. They both pasted on fake smiles and let the game begin.

"Shut the door," Tidwell demanded.

Charlie knew better than to make some cheeky joke about Reese and Tidwell. With any luck, the days of the Captain having one on one's with Crews' partner were in the past.

Tidwell tried to fish with all the finesse of a stick of dynamite thrown into the water. "So what'd you do this weekend?"

"That's not really what you're asking me….is it?" Charlie faced his boss down without batting an eyelid. "I won't inform on her. If that's what you're asking."

Tidwell exhaled in a long heavy sigh. "Look, she just went dark and quiet on me. I just want to know that she's okay."

"Then ask her," Crews reflected the question off his sunny smile like sun bouncing off a pane of glass. He grasped the doorknob and twisted it, then stopped. "Only when you do…..ask her….leave the blinds open." He pulled the door open and left he office door and the Captain's mouth both hanging open.

"Sonofabitch…" Tidwell swore softly under his breath. _How had he missed it?_ Crews was being territorial and protective of his partner. He always had been – to a degree, but that…. that was a threat: a cool, icy and crystal clear warning.

"The Captain wants to see you," Crews announced as he sat down heavily at his desk and grinned at her.

"If the Captain wanted to see me, he wouldn't have said 'Crews' when he walked past," she astutely observed, somewhat ignoring him.

"He asked for me, but what he wants is you," Charlie pronounced presciently.

She looked up to determine his mood. He could have been genuine, teasing or reflective and only by looking at his eyes could she truly tell. His eyes were clear and a blue grey. _Shit, that meant he was telling the truth_. No spin, no Zen, just a solid, still and sometimes bitter truth. She flicked her gaze to Tidwell's office and he was standing in the doorway fiddling with the plastic rod to reopen the blinds.

A moment later a familiar refrain sang out, "Detective Reese? A moment?"

Dani sighed, rolled her eyes and stood. "What did you say to him?" Dani whispered harshly to her partner.

Charlie twisted his head considering his answer for a moment. "Words," he replied.

"You fucking…" she began.

He chided her with a teasing, "tsk, tsk, tsk."

"I'm gonna kill you if you told him about this weekend," she glowered pushing in her chair. Stalling, she was stalling_. Might as well get this over with._

"I didn't," Crews assured. Again the clear blue grey of truth met her, "I wouldn't." He meant it and she believed him. _Besides nothing happened this weekend, nothing but potential energy being measured. It was all still theoretical, like string theory_ he reasoned.

"What's up?" Dani asked portraying the same casual coolness and lack of affect her partner had. They were getting to be too much alike.

"As your Captain," he began unsteadily, "I need to ask how you did this weekend."

"At the race track?" Dani's reply was sarcastic yet witty. She knew what he meant.

"I wouldn't have to ask, if I'd have seen you," he whined. "I'd know you were okay. That the holiday and stuff didn't present a temptation to you…" he trailed off. There was more than one sort of temptation out there and they both knew it.

"I am working the program, Captain," Dani said icily. "I'm about done with my ninety in ninety. Haven't smoked, shot up, snorted, drank or otherwise ingested anything more dangerous than a root beer in months. Happy?"

"Anything but…" his tired refrain wasn't meant to be audible to her, but it was. Kinda like Crews did sometimes.

"Did you want me to fall off the wagon? So that I'd need you or something?"

"God…no!" His frustration showed. "It's just that since Roman….things haven't been the same between us."

"Since Roman…there hasn't been an us," she replied coolly. "Not likely to be either."

"Why?" he laid himself bare. "All I did was try to find you. When you came home I just wanted to show you how much I cared…how much I still care…Dani, I love…"

"Don't," she warned and with just one finger shut him up. She wished that trick worked on Crews. "I don't want to hear this, I don't want to do this. We're done and you need to accept that fact."

He stood there staring at her. She wasn't floundering. She wasn't in trouble. She was a rock and she was impressive as hell. The silence however was her undoing, just as Crews often commented, people like to fill a void. She fell victim to that void.

"Did you know that when I was at the FBI they asked me about Crews? In fact, now that I think about it…and I have thought about it, ALL they asked me about was Crews. Crews and Rayborne, Crews and my father, Crews and the department; they just wanted Crews and they were going to use me to get him."

"And you think I knew?" he blurted out an obvious question.

"I think you sent them Crews' partner, the one person he probably trusts. I think it's damned convenient that out of all the possibilities, you chose me – a drunk, a junkie, in the middle of a relapse." Her hands were on her hips and she stood defiantly before him daring him to say differently than she believed. "You chose me to work at the FBI – because it would be good for me," she repeated his rationale, but her words were dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

"I know what it seems like," he offered meekly.

Her look bespoke victory.

"But what seems is not always what is," he finished.

_God damn him and his puppy dog eyes,_ she thought. _And the crazy talk? The sounding like Crews? _ _Jesus was she to be surrounded by men who talked in obscure circles_. She exhaled in frustration, turned on her heel and left.

Only after she walked out, did she realize that he'd never actually denied it. He hadn't flatly denied sending her to the FBI because she was exactly what the FBI wanted, maybe asked for. She looked over her shoulder in time to see him throw a folder onto his beaten leather couch. It begged the question, why did they want Crews? And who were they? Was Tidwell one of them?

Maybe it was like Crews said, 'there are no answers, only questions.' She mused. Could Crews be right? He was proving to be annoyingly correct about a number of things, not the least of which was that they were connected.

"Hey," Crews said lowly in her ear. She was so lost in thought on the way to the coffee machine that he'd stepped close and she hadn't even noticed. Ordinarily she'd have jumped having someone that close to her, but his low tone and the scent of his cologne only made her shiver.

"Jesus," she complained, "would you not do that?"

"Okay," he backed away with both hands raised. "I was just going to offer to buy you real coffee. You know? The kind with flavor and whipped cream," he said softly with a tiny smile hinted at by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "But if you wanna stay here and drink whatever's burned into the bottom of that Bunn coffeepot…"

"Fine," she gave in. She really wanted decent coffee anyway.

"Oh," he commented as he dragged his suit jacket from the back of his chair. "And we have a case," he smiled. "Did I forget to mention that? It's okay; he's dead. We got time for coffee, it's not like he's going anywhere."


	4. The Importance of Timing & Hard Truths

Outside, in the car, she was quiet, but then she was always quiet. This time, however, he could tell she was deep in thought. So he talked.

"I wonder how come we are in such a hurry to get to death scene…" he talked mostly to himself, but the routine was familiar to her and comfortable. It gave her space and distance and time – his gift to her. "I mean… what made them – them is already gone. What's left is something, but it's not something – and it's definitely not something that needs lights and sirens and speed. You know? Reese?"

"I'm sorry, what?" She hadn't been listening. He knew that. But she apologized and Reese never apologized.

"I was just saying…." He began to repeat himself, but then gave up the pretense. "I was just saying stuff. You know, so you could think."

"How does you talking incessantly help me think?" she wondered acerbically.

"How DOES me talking help you think?" he repeated.

She growled at him.

"It's a good question. I don't know the answer, but I know that it does….help."

He had her and she knew it. She fell silent again. Something Tidwell said, something that happened between them was preoccupying her. The woman who sat across from his this morning wearing a secret smile and smoldering looks was now hidden and he wanted her back. He wanted her back badly enough to risk an argument.

"So….." he began slowly, "what'd he say to you?"

Her gaze flicked to him and then just as quickly she refocused on the road. She didn't have to ask who the 'he' was. _He could be so goddamned perceptive sometimes._ She didn't want him to coax it out of her; she was just filtering through the exchange herself and examining what was said, what wasn't and what that meant. Then she considered that solving puzzles together was what they did and they did it well. Again she glanced at him and found him watching her intently.

"Stop looking at me like that," she sounded annoyed, even to herself.

"I always look at you like this," he commented levelly, "only before, you pretended not to notice." He was right. Nothing had changed, only her perception of it, of him, of them, had.

She swallowed hard. He was right and he wasn't bragging. He was stating a simple fact. She exhaled in frustration and gripped the wheel tighter. It took a couple minutes of silence but she began haltingly, "I guess… He just…It's not that I…" Then mercifully the coffee shop appeared on the horizon and she pulled to the curb.

"Well," he chuckled, "that's a good start, but how about you collect yourself and when I get back we can figure this out?" He smiled; she narrowed her eyes and smirked. He was having some fun with this and it helped. She relaxed a bit. It was just Crews. There was no one she trusted more.

"Do you want me to feed the meter or are we feeling lucky today?" he motioned to the meter maid writing tickets up the block.

"Just get my damned coffee," Dani growled.

"Yes, dear," he deadpanned dutifully. He unbuckled and cracked his door, then on impulse he leaned across and quickly kissed her on the cheek before climbing from the car.

She was stunned. Her face flushed red, but he was gone. She looked in the rearview, expecting that there would be some evidence of the coolness of his lips pressed to her warm cheek. All she found was a silly smile on her face and that made her frown. He'd kissed her on the cheek like Freddie Bauer had at church camp when she was nine; both times had given her butterflies.

He walked quickly and didn't look back. All of a sudden his heart was racing. _Had he really done that? Kissed her on the cheek?_

Once safely inside the coffee shop, he placed the palm of his hand against his forehead. _Idiot,_ his mind called him…_of all the stupid schoolboy silliness. _ He wondered if she'd even be there when he walked out or if he'd be some chump standing there with two coffees alone.

The girl asked him a second time if she could help him and he dully ordered his chai latte and a white chocolate mocha for Dani. To the white noise created by the espresso machine, he pondered just how bad it would be. He stepped to within three feet of the window, unseen but able to observe and he felt like a coward, but the car was still there. At least she hadn't left him – yet.

Dani looked over and found the meter reader working her way towards them.

"Come on Crews," she mumbled under her breath. "Stop flirting with the barista and get back here." She realized in those moments that she had missed him. Not just now but before. She'd missed this. Her annoyance was something familiar, commonplace. She wasn't truly annoyed anymore; it had just become a thing with them.

There were so many things she'd missed. Touchstones, moments: his smile, the smell of something citrus in the car, them driving somewhere unknown together fighting over the radio, her typing / him talking, the sound of his voice, the warmth he generated when they stood close, the crisp smell of his expensive cologne. She hadn't just missed work; she'd missed working with him. He was her partner and she'd never really had one before, not like him.

He climbed back into the car, handing her a frothy rich mocha and buckled himself in. He held his breath and waited for her to chastise him or just glare. But when he looked back at her, he knew something important had changed. She looked different, settled, sure. "Did I miss something?" he grinned.

"No," she said simply. "I did." Had he asked her what she'd missed; she would have been compelled to admit it was him, but he thankfully didn't.

"You get a ticket?" he wondered.

"No," she was agonizingly terse at times. She sipped her coffee and pulled away from the curb as the meter reader stopped to check their flashing parking meter.

Some days timing can be everything.

* * *

Crews circled back around to his original question after they'd driven for ten minutes in traffic on the 405 and showed no sign of getting anywhere anytime soon. "You gonna tell me what he said to you?"

She sighed and nodded. "It's not what he said to me. He always says the same thing – 'he loves me," she sighed unhappily.

"It must suck having so many people love you, huh?" he joked but there was a dark edge to it.

She didn't want to go 'there' so she gave him the truth he was seeking. "I told him I thought the whole 'FBI gig would be good for you' thing was a lie."

"Was it?"

"I think so," she confessed. "There was no task force. They didn't want me to help them with anything. Well, actually they did. They wanted me to help them with you."

Charlie almost spit out his coffee. "What?" he choked slightly in the haste to spit the question out.

"At the FBI," she offered. "They wanted me to come back to LAPD and be their snitch," she looked him in the eye, "on you."

"Did they say what they think I've done?"

"No," she admitted. "I honestly don't think they cared. They just wanted you gone."

"And you wouldn't do it?"

"You're my partner," she said as if those few words explained it all.

"I've been nothing but trouble for you since the day you laid eyes on me," he professed.

"But you're mine and I know you," she defended. "You're not who they think you are."

"I'm not who you think I am either," he warned. There was a pause and then he pushed deep into personal territory, her personal territory – a previous out of bounds area for him. "Is this the thing between you and Tidwell?" he ventured boldly. He wondered if she'd answer or just freeze him out. It was after all none of his business, unless…possibly…things had changed. He almost held his breath to see what her response would be.

She chewed on it for a minute, but elected to answer him, in a way, "it's part of it."

"You think he had something to do with that? With the FBI thing just being a set up to get to me?"

"I think they wanted someone who could get them Charlie Crews and Tidwell sent me," she said icily. They were in uncharted waters. There were deep currents, eddies, tides and whirlpools here. Swimming was dangerous. "Someone they thought would give them Charlie Crews," she added.

That comment was telling. Had Reese been willing to give him up, to come back to the Department and inform for them, she could have delivered him. He trusted her. It was well known that he did some questionable things; she'd done some with him. He wondered how much and what types of pressure they'd employed. But in the end, her choice had been him and that's when and why she was given to Roman. The mere thought of what she'd been through on his account made him both furious and sad.

"I'm sorry that you went through all that for me. You are more loyal to me that I sometimes deserve."

"I'm exactly as loyal as you deserve," she argued. Then she added a dig that was unnecessary to the conversation, but was a thing with her, "Stark damned sure wasn't." There was always a darkness in Dani's tone and expression when it came to Bobby Stark. She hated the man for his weakness. Charlie had long since forgiven him and forgotten the past; Reese never would. He feared she would develop a similar distrust of Tidwell. Much as it pained him, he felt compelled to defend the man who previously occupied her affections. He let the comment on Stark slide, she was never going to forgive him for letting his partner down.

"I can't believe I'm gonna say this," he mumbled under his breath, "but I gotta say this. Tidwell was genuinely worried about you. He went with me to the FBI and got in their face, got a gun drawn on him there, asking about you. I can't imagine that he knew."

Reese's expression was one part skepticism and one part shock. "I can't believe you're defending him. Not when you….I mean what you said….about how you feel…" she tried to put it together.

He knew what she meant. "All the more reason for me not to take up for him," Charlie delivered his comment gently and with great sincerity. "I love you, Reese. And if you're not with him anymore, I'm happy for that cause it means I have a chance. But….I think he cares about you….maybe even loves you….too." He choked slightly when he got to admitting that Tidwell just might love her. His voice wouldn't deliver the words properly. It rejected them. It was too much, but he knew Tidwell had been sincerely freaked when they couldn't find her and he was far too good at reading real emotion to believe he'd been fooled by the Captain.

Dani said nothing. In her head thoughts were swirling, questions, theories, ideas with no real form, snatches of conversations, things said in that basement while she was under a hood and no one thought she was listening. "_Will he come? They'd asked. For her? Most certainly. She's the one thing he'd go back to prison for_." Even Roman and his men had known that Crews loved her – before she did. _Had Tidwell known too?_

_Charlie_ _loved her; he'd said it and more than proved it. Tidwell said he did too; had she ever given him a chance? How long exactly had she and Crews been more than partners and was that why she couldn't commit to Tidwell? Was her heart holding back while her stubborn brain caught up? Was she looking to be angry so she wouldn't have to admit that she used Tidwell because he was convenient, comfortable, non-threatening? Had she loved the stone cold killer sitting three feet from her all along?_

Some days timing is everything. Traffic took that moment to clear and begin moving again. His cell phone buzzed. A text from the on scene officers wondering their ETA. Moment over. He wondered if he'd just made a serious error, but being honest with Reese was something he was committed to and intended to follow through with. Anything less would be disrespectful of the loyalty she placed in him.


	5. Unforeseen Events

The uniform that greeted them on the sidewalk outside the glittering high-rise building was none other than Charlie's old partner. Gum chewing and smiling with fingers hooked into his gun belt, Bobby Stark met them at the curb.

"Body's this way." He led them in.

"How you doing Charlie? Missed you at my annual 4th of July shindig," he commented. "Leslie said you couldn't make it. Better offer?"

"Kinda," Charlie gave him a non-answer. His eyes slid sideways toward Reese.

"And what did you do for the 4th Detective Reese?" Bobby made small talk in the elevator.

"How about we cut the charade and stop pretending you care what I did and with whom?" her tone was cutting. If someone had to get her anger today, might as well be Bobby Stark.

Stark, however, loved to goad Dani Reese and today was no different. "Geez, Detective. My feelings are hurt. And if you're stepping out with my buddy here," he laughed and slapped Charlie's shoulder, "let's just say I got an brotherly interest."

Stark was joking, but he had no idea how close to home he'd struck. A look was exchanged. Mild shock showed in Reese's, but a subtle shake of Charlie's head kept Reese from going ballistic. The door dinged and slid open with a metallic hiss before them.

"Bobby," Charlie offered. "How's about you go make sure our car doesn't get towed?"

"Naw," Stark argued. "That wouldn't happen. All my guys know…"

"I insist," Charlie shoved him slightly causing the man in navy to back into the open elevator. "I need you to be somewhere else right now. Somewhere not near my partner," Crews said very lowly. His tone was just loud enough for Stark to hear.

Stark finally got it. He grinned. "Sure thing, Charlie." He leaned to look around him and summon his new partner. "Juarez, let's go."

"He stays," Dani directed. "Station yourself at the elevator and make sure no one else gets off on this floor," Dani ordered firmly. Juarez obeyed without comment. He knew not to mess with the little dark detective. Some days Charlie wondered if Juarez wouldn't soon outrank Bobby.

"Crews," his partner barked, "you here?"

"Yeah," he verified and stepped into the lobby of what appeared to be a law office.

It was furnished with the standard office fare: desks, couches, chairs and few paintings. In corners men in tasteful suits and expensive shoes consoled the few women who were crying or distressed. It was all very civilized except for the bloody body before them. The soft bounce of a flash and the whirring electronic sound of a digital camera led them to the body.

It was that of a man in his mid forties, dressed in a tasteful dark suit, sitting behind a desk. His throat had been slit and his tongue pulled through the opening. The man's shirt, which appeared to have been a robin's egg blue, and his tie were soaked and there was a pool of blood on the desk before him. It was impossible to tell the tie's color due to the sheer volume of blood. There was a lot of blood almost all his tall, thin body could have contained was there before them on his desk. The man's eyes were open as was his mouth. He did not die pleasantly. There were signs of a struggle, handprints in blood, files on the floor, a lamp knocked over.

"Exsanguination, by Columbian neck tie," Reese commented. "Popular with the cartel. Demonstrates both depravity and strength simultaneously."

Crews hadn't moved from the threshold to the room. He just stared. He was pale, paler than usual and silent, which was uncommon. He tilted his head sideways and blinked as a crime scene tech stepped between him and the body.

"Crews?" his partner called to him. She sounded like she was in a tunnel. He took a step, then two. He got closer and it became apparent that he was right. He knew the man sitting there. "It looks like…. No, it is_…."_ He started to tell Reese and then he heard her behind him.

Juarez hadn't been able to restrain the woman as she shot off the elevator and into the office. She came through the door, saw her husband and screamed.

"Jesus Christ, Juarez," Dani growled at the uniform in pursuit of the woman. He had her by the arms now arresting her movement but her blue eyes were glued to the man at the desk, obviously she was the wife.

"Mark," Charlie said dully. Reese didn't connect that he knew the man, how he knew the man and what the hell was happening until he turned to face the now sobbing, but subdued woman.

"Charlie?" she questioned through her tears.

"Jen," Crews' spoke her name in breathless, hushed reverence.

Then it all came rushing home for Reese. The man at the desk was the husband of Charlie's ex-wife, the love of his life, Jennifer. That was how Crews knew him and why he'd frozen two steps into the crime scene and had not spoken since they crossed that threshold

To his credit, Charlie didn't rush to her side. He leaned and then checked himself. He looked to Reese, perhaps for permission, to be human, to console the woman and that made Reese feel both powerful and a little bit guilty. She nodded once, curtly, but it was enough for him. His limbs moved slowly toward the blonde and his voice was velvet. The care and concern for her apparent. As he reached her side, Juarez released the arms and Jennifer melted into his Crews' arms.

"Charlie," she sobbed.

"Jen," he soothed. "I'm so sorry."

_Was he?_ Dani wondered. _Or was he just a little bit glad the investment banker husband was out of the way now?_ It was a well known fact Crews never stopped loving his ex. For awhile when he first got out, there were rumors that he stalked and harassed her and her new husband, although you could hardly call people who'd been married ten years newlyweds.

Reese found herself uncomfortably tense and a tiny bit jealous at the way Jennifer's name left her partner's lips. He still, after all these years, and her divorcing him in prison; remained in awe and a more than a little bit in love with the tall leggy blonde. Green flickered at the corners of Reese's vision. She was just getting used to the idea that Charlie Crews and her were a distinct possibility and now this. But there was no way she could let him (or anyone else )know what she felt.

"Crews," she called to him. His eyes returned to her, but his body was draped protectively around his ex-wife who was now crying quietly against his shoulder. "You should go," Dani pronounced with far more distance, professionalism and empathy than she felt. "Take her home."

He nodded mutely, and gently turned the blonde by the shoulder, careful to keep his body between her and her husband's corpse.

"Let me take you home," his voice had a smooth, richness and care that Dani envied the woman for.

She steeled herself, turning back to the deceased and snapped on rubber gloves. She became all business. It kept her from thinking about what types of consoling might be in Crews' future and how much this was going to suck – on so many levels.


	6. Misgiving & Forgiveness

Dani phoned Tidwell to let him know they id'd the victim, who he was and how he was connected to Crews. _Connections_…the word echoed in Dani's brain as Tidwell's long, slow whistle indicated his feeling on the matter. _Connected was how she'd described her relationship with Crews. But wasn't that also true here?_

"Do you think Crews is gonna make a play for his ex?" Tidwell asked curiously.

"I'm sorry…what?" Dani was shocked out of her introspection by a question she couldn't believe he'd just uttered. She'd heard him, she just didn't want to believe he'd go there – and then he did it again.

"I said… " he slowed and enunciated each word carefully, "do you think Crews…." Two could play at this game. She'd left him hurt this morning and this seemed to chaff her although why wasn't clear to him.

"No," she yelped. Then dead silence greeted him.

Tidwell, however, was undeterred. "I mean. She's totally hot and he's got a thing for her. To hold onto a woman for twelve years after she ditches you, that's a thing."

Again Dani was completely silent. His ongoing commentary about Crews' ex was not helping her not imagine him sitting close to Jennifer, soothing her and stroking her arms with those long warm hands of his. The tenseness that was previously only in her back and shoulders began to twist knots into her neck and send sharp pains to her temples. Her mouth formed the words 'sonofabitch' but she refused to loose the language of frustration. Instead she muttered a Farsi curse under her breath.

"Did you hear me?" The Captain had the nerve to sound irritated that she wasn't keeping up with his gossip.

"I'm still waiting for you to say something remotely helpful," she replied caustically.

"Why exactly did you call again?" Tidwell was acerbic and the delay stretched awkwardly. He didn't really deserve her anger, well…maybe he did….but not about this. _This was because he was saying all the things she was thinking_.

He was giving voice to her fears, only he didn't know that she feared them. She wasn't admitting that Crews interested her yet. So far as he knew, her partner had experienced a shocking revelation and was coping with it the best way he knew how.

"Look," he said more kindly, "you did the right thing cutting him loose. We know Crews likes to get personally involved in things and the best thing for him and for the investigation is for him not to be there."

That she actually agreed with. But she knew what came next. She even gritted her teeth as she asked the question, "I'm gonna need another detective out here to help me with…there's like seven witnesses out there," she leaned back and examined the anteroom where the huddle of lawyers and secretaries stayed close together and comforted one another. She was confirming her math, "no, eight."

"Use Stark," Tidwell demanded.

"Uh…no," she objected.

"Crews used Stark while you were gone," Tidwell challenged flatly. "They did fine. Shit, he practically stalks Crews. The dude is at virtually every DB you guys pull. He'll do fine," he concluded to himself.

She ended the call without saying goodbye when it became apparent that he was not going to send her any help. "Juarez," she barked. "Radio Stark to get up here," she ground her teeth. _Great, that was just what she needed right now, Bobby freakin Stark and his smarmy attitude. _

Stark was predictably smiling when the elevator doors opened. He was going to eat this up with a spoon. "Did I hear right? Someone said 'you' needed 'my' help? Is that right Detective?" He was smug as hell and showing off for his rookie partner.

"Come in here," she demanded angrily, motioning behind her. "Has this door been dusted for prints?" she asked a tech. He nodded in the affirmative. "Good, get out. All of you. Clear the room."

The crime scene team meekly obeyed, filing out into the lobby. "Wait here," she said shutting the door. "I need five minutes." No one dared object.

Stark was chomping his gum and smiling when she spun back around. "What's up?"

"Did you miss Crews leaving?"

"How could I? I was watching your car Detective," he confirmed.

"Did you see who he was with?"

"Nope," Stark still didn't get it. "Was it someone famous? It was someone famous wasn't it?"

"It was Jennifer," she interrupted him. She hoped the revelation would stop the class clown act.

"Jennifer who?" Stark canted his head and inquired seriously. "Jennifer Lopez? Jennifer Garner? So many pretty Jennifers…"

"Jennifer…His ex," she growled interrupting him. She suppressed the urge to call him an idiot. _Not helpful Reese,_ she reminded herself internally. _Eight witnesses, no partner, you need him. _

"His….I'm sorry…..his what?" The dots finally connected for Stark and he actually surprised her. His colorful commentary stopped, he stopped chewing his gum, paled, swallowed hard (possibly his gum) and stood up ramrod stiff and utterly still. His voice when it returned was deep and serious. "How can I help?"

She was taken aback by Stark's transformation and couldn't summon words, but he filled in for her. Now that he was serious, he made the logical leaps. He talked aloud like Crews did, "so this is Jenn's new husband." He motioned over his shoulder at the body. He reached for the name in his memory and summoned it after a moment's thought. "Mark. He's an investment banker."

He looked at the dead man and spoke the question aloud. "What's an investment banker do to get a Columbian necktie?"

"And who did he do it to?" Reese finally found her voice.

"Want me to question them?" Stark pulled out his notebook.

Reese nodded mutely.

"Get a list of all of his accounts, his calendar for the last month, whereabouts, travel and alibis for all of them?" Stark was fully capable of helping, just as Tidwell had foretold. He was studious and dutiful and she was chagrinned to have been so wrong about it. "And Stark? Thanks"

"Anything for Charlie," his voice held both guilt and the loyalty she'd always found lacking in Crews' former partner.

"Look for signs of nervousness and blood on anyone's clothes. Pay particular attention to their shoes," she instructed. Stark gave her an odd look. "You don't do something like this, without getting something on you. People will throw out clothes, but shoes are expensive and hard to break in. Most people will keep them."

"Got it," Stark confirmed. He wheeled and opened the door. A different man left that room than the one who entered it. This man commanded respect and was grave and serious. "I need an office and to talk with you privately," he advised the oldest man he noted. He assumed the older man would be the senior banker. He was right.

"This way," the man confirmed. "I'm Lance Abraham." He offered his hand and Bobby shook it. They disappeared into another office.

Dani felt control return. He wasn't Crews, but he'd do. "Okay," she acknowledged the crime scene techs milling about, "get back in here. Anyone got an ETA on the coroner?"

"Mark" had been dead over ten hours probably closer to twelve the coroner concluded. His corneas were clouded over and his body was approaching full rigor mortis. Dani tried not to think of his as "Mark" but now he was real to her in a way she avoided. He was a person. A person connected to someone connected to Crews and she was connected to Crews. In the back of her brain, she was trying to determine what that meant.

Stark had proved very useful. They rode together back to the station in Stark's patrol unit. He made Juarez sit in the back. The rookie complained but did as he was told.

On the trip back, Stark briefed her on what he'd found. He showed her the list of Mark's accounts Mr. Abraham provided. He noted that there was one name that stood out from the others – Franciso Sanchez Cordova. They exchanged a look that let Dani know they shared the same suspicion. Then Stark showed her the printout of "Mark's" calendar for the past month and reviewed the alibis of all the brokerage staff. Some alibis were soft and would need to be explored, but no one was inappropriate behaviorally and he found no sign of blood on anyone's shoes. He paused for criticism and was surprised by her response.

"Sounds like you were very thorough," she complimented him treating him as she would have Crews – as an equal. She shared what she'd learned and her suspicions. "The coroner estimates TOD somewhere between 6PM last night and midnight. While there are signs he struggled, tech didn't find any obviously foreign prints or footwear impressions. It'll take a couple weeks to get all the prints back from latent. Either he was careful or he was dressed for murder," she noted.

"So…." he ventured boldly. If she was going to accept him as an equal, he was going to continue to act like one. Maybe he'd finally turned a corner with Charlie's new partner. It was no secret that she didn't like him and after that talk in the marijuana grow he knew why. She was a better partner to Charlie than he had been. She was the partner he deserved. "If he died between six and midnight…why didn't his wife report that he didn't come home?"

They said the last part in unison, but Reese continued alone. "Either he routinely doesn't come home or she wasn't there to miss him."

Stark squirmed uncomfortably and she honed in on it immediately. "What?"

"What – what?" he deflected.

"You know something," she accused. "Tell me what you know."

Stark pulled a page from Charlie's playbook, "everybody knows something."

"You know something about this," she narrowed her eyes, lowered her tone demanding that he tell her in her own unique way. "You know something about this, about her. What is it?"

"It's not… it's not only about her," he tried to not answer. Charlie had warned him about Reese's ability to extract information from the toughest of sources. It was frightening when brought to bear on him.

"Stark," she threatened. How someone so small could be so physically intimidating was beyond him, but she was. She did it well.

"Okay," he capitulated. "But you didn't hear this from me. Okay?"

She twisted her head, but nodded once to agree.

"Charlie and Jen," he began unsteadily. "They got back together. About a year after he got out, they hooked up," he confessed his guilty knowledge. "I don't know for how long, but I know they used to meet at the place where they'd go when they first met sometimes. A sleazy motel in near where they lived as kids. He was thinking about trying to get her to leave Mark."

"How long ago was this?"

Stark squirmed. "Six months ago …maybe less. It might be over. She never left the banker. They have two kids. Charlie was having second thoughts, but you have no idea how much he loved Jen," he stammered explaining, excusing and trying to cover for Crews all at the same time.

"Relax," she steeled herself. "I'm not mad."

"You're not?"

"Well….not mad at you," she confirmed. "But that leaves me wondering if I have to consider Crews as a suspect."

"He is good with a knife," Juarez piped up from the backseat.

"Shut up," they answered in concert.

"Do you consider him a suspect Detective?" Stark asked and there was animus in his voice when he asked. He was pissed.

"I don't," she confirmed with steel in her voice. "But everyone else will. Right Juarez?"

Juarez wisely remained mute.

"Because he loved her, because he's an ex-con, because he's good with a knife, because he's LAPD's favorite suspect and because if I know Crews he doesn't have an alibi. That gives him means, motive and opportunity," Dani foretold her partner's future. They'd suspend him again, almost immediately.

"I can give him an alibi," Stark volunteered.

"No. Doing it now, just because you didn't do it before won't fix things that happened in the past?" She objected on principle.

"Well, how do you know I wasn't with him?" Stark objected.

"Because I was," she admitted.

"You?" Stark pulled down his shades and examined her with his bare eyes.

He couldn't discern anything from the cagey young woman. _Was she with Crews as she said or was she just the kind of partner he deserved – the kind of partner he should have been. Was she simply loyal? Or was she really with Crews?_ Only Detective Dani Reese knew for certain and she wasn't saying.


	7. Friend or Foe

Charlie's day wasn't much better than his partner's. Despite the fact that he found himself in close quarters with a woman that less than a year ago he couldn't let go of, he was profoundly uncomfortable.

Sure they'd hooked up and it was great. It happened right around the time Jack Reese disappeared and Rachel came to live with him. His life seemed to be headed in the right direction for once. It was comfortable, just like old times and they were great together, just like they'd been as kids. It was clandestine and therefore the mundane became exotic. Then days became weeks and a month passed. Reality intruded. Her kids, her husband, his pursuit of secrets and things she didn't want to know.

For him, she was dull ache he couldn't shake, that cut that refused to heal.

For her, one day for he was just gone. Imprisoned, for a very long time and then one day, he wasn't. She didn't want to know if he did it – killed their friends. They didn't talk about it. Slowly, it dawned upon him that Jennifer and he would never have lasted. She needed to be worshipped – constantly. She couldn't be ignored, not that she should have been, but work would have come between them. Even back then, he loved being a cop and between that at the bar, there had been problems, ones he'd forgotten about, but that came rushing back inside of sixty days.

It wasn't like that with Reese. She too could be consumed by a case. When she was hunting Rick Larson she didn't sleep, barely ate and was dedicated to a singular pursuit of a evil she alone could sense. With Reese knowledge, even things she said she didn't want to know…. was a truth deferred, delayed, but that would one day come. As resistant as Reese could be at times, at her core Charlie could always sense the pull of the truth for Reese. Even if it hurt her, she wanted to know. Jennifer didn't.

Slowly, the clutches in the dark, the backseat of cars and the surreptitious meetings at their old motel just weren't enough. Whatever he had hoped would hold them together crumbled like dried out glue and before blew away before the dry Santa Anna winds of a California summer.

He hadn't been with her in over four months. That was long before the epiphany in the orange grove and his realization that his heart belonged to another. His body remembered hers and that sustained them for a few weeks, but now he wondered if he hadn't always been searching for something that wasn't there, that never had been and that certainly could never be. They weren't the same people anymore.

Before he went to prison, he'd never even hurt anyone. Now? Well, it took more than two hands to count the number of people he'd killed. He thought about all this as he drove Jennifer to the little white house where he'd left a horse in her front yard two years ago and parked on the curb. He looked up through the windshield at her house, their house. It wasn't his house. He felt like an intruder.

"Shouldn't you? Should I go get your kids?"

She looked at him like he'd slapped her. "My kids. They don't know you Charlie. They aren't your kids, they are Mark's."

"Whoa," he cautioned. "I was just trying to be…."

"What?" she snapped. "Their father? My husband? Well, you're not!"

"Helpful," he said softly. He was profoundly uncomfortable. This had been a mistake. He should have sent a uniform. Now Jen was angry with him and if the look on Reese's face as he left was any indication of her mood he was going to lose a lot of arguments today.

Jen sniffed quietly. "I'm sorry. It's just this…this is so," she couldn't finish as fresh tears came again.

"Shhh…" he rubbed her shoulder. "I know." After a moment, he again tried to get out of the car, "Do you want to go inside?"

She nodded and he walked around to shepherd her inside. They climbed the stairs of the neat little house and she retrieved her house keys. She stopped short of opening the door after she unlocked it. "I don't think you should come in here."

He nodded understanding. It was her house with Mark. It was their house, just as the first time they'd made out it stalled because it Mark's car. "It's his house, your house," he told her understood. "If you need anything…" he trailed off.

"I know how to reach you," she said. She never turned to thank him. She never even looked at him. Maybe she felt guilty, maybe she couldn't or she might not let him leave, but he was left standing in silence on the front porch of another man's house.

He descended the stairs and pulled out his mobile phone, dialing Reese.

She answered on the second ring. "So how is she?"

"Upset, distraught, angry," he listed the range of emotions Jen was experiencing. "What do we know?" he asked trying to get caught up.

"That you and your ex were having relations," she said bluntly.

_Shit!_ He thought. _Bobby must have told her. Why for the love of all that is holy would he have done that? _He missed a beat trying to decide what to say before deciding on the truth. Truth was easy, it was constant and it remained the safest thing with Reese. Lying to her was out of the question.

"Remember how I said there was no past?" He imagined her nodding and rolling her eyes. "Sometimes I say that because… if I say it enough maybe I'll believe it. It's ancient history. It was history twelve years ago," he gave her the honesty she deserved. His dalliance with Jen had been a mistake for him, and for her.

"I know what it's like to do something that's familiar," she tried to meet him halfway, "choosing comfort and safety over something untried, something dangerous and new."

She was talking about Tidwell and she hoped he go that. She wasn't going to get all mushy and personal, but Tidwell had been that for her. Safe, comfortable, but not what she wanted, not what she needed. Crews was what she wanted; he was who she wanted. Seeing his ex-wife this morning had cemented that for her. Crews was hers now; she need only reach out and take him. But he was as dangerous for her as she was for him. They both possessed the power to destroy each other completely, personally and professionally.

"Dani," he began, but she cut him off.

"You can't work on this," she interrupted. "Even if you had nothing to do with it that's what everyone will think."

"Is that what you think?" his voice was thin and taut. It was the only thing that mattered to him. Everything rested on her reply.

"Doesn't matter what I think," she was terse.

"It matters to me," he pressed.

The line was quiet and he imagined her weighing her response.

"No," she admitted. "I don't think you're that stupid. I think if you wanted him dead, he'd have been gone a long time ago and we'd never find him."

"I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted," he joked darkly.

"Did you talk to her?" Dani probed.

"No," he admitted. "We never talked. Not now, not before…we just…we were just good together. There wasn't any reason to talk."

"There is now," she commented presciently.

"No," he objected. "She's not what I want. She's not who I want." He stopped before things became too personal. She knew what he was saying. Reese didn't need things broken down for her; she got the complexities of their situation. "So…" he switched gears. "Who?"

"Stark," she answered the question he hadn't finished. He smiled at her getting it.

"Bobby's good," he commented. "Solid. A little stiff, but reliable and…."

"Don't you say loyal," she warned. "Don't you dare say loyal."

"Stable," he delivered his comment with a grin. She still didn't trust Stark, but she'd work with him because he told her that she could trust him.

"Well, that'd be an improvement over the nut case I currently work with," she ribbed.

He chuckled. For a dark day, he'd take what humor he could find. "I have your car," he highlighted a logistical challenge.

"I know," she groused. "I had to ride in a patrol car back to the station. It smelled like tacos, stale beer and vomit."

"Oh," he laughed. "That's right. You were UC straight out of the academy. You never had to ride in a patrol car," he imagined her wrinkling her nose. "Lucky you."

"Yes," she joked darkly, "because UC worked out so well for me."

He let the comment go. It was good she could joke about it, but he didn't see the good in indulging that penchant for darkness that orbited Dani like a moon. "Can you have Stark drop you by my house tonight? Or did you want me to come there? Meet you at the station?"

"I think you should stay away from here right now," she cautioned. "Brass is talking with Tidwell about suspending you. He's arguing that you can work other things, but I don't think they believe I'll keep you out of this case. I think I'm about to get you suspended."

"No, honey," he chastised her lightly. "You're not gonna get suspended. And it's not your fault. I never should have gone with her. And I should have told you."

"Uh," her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "When have I ever wanted to know about your sex life? And did you just call me 'honey'?"

"Did I?" he wondered, but there was mirth in his voice.

Ten minutes ago he was consoling a grieving woman and now he was grinning from ear to ear about being suspended - again. Reese did that to him. Even cranky and sarcastic, she made him smile. He probably did call her 'honey' he realized.

"So you're coming to my place tonight? To get your car?" he qualified.

"Yes," she sounded exasperated with him.

"Good," he smiled confirming that she'd be coming there after work. "Bring Chinese and we can talk about the case," his reply was just smart assed enough to elicit a smirk from her. He could envision it on her face, pulling at the corners of her mouth as she tried not to smile.

"No, we can't talk about the…" she commented, then pulled the phone away from her head and examined it. A dull beeping sound emanated from her phone speaker. _Bastard hung up on me_, she thought. They were so going to talk about the case tonight. "Bring Chinese" she repeated his demand quietly under her breath. "I'm gonna kick your ass," she commented to no one but herself.

"What'd I do?" Stark questioned. He was standing at Crews' desk holding two mugs of coffee. "Lemme guess….No cream?"

"Sit down, smart ass," she demanded holding out her hand for her mug. "We need to go over your interviews and figure this thing out." She motioned for him to sit at Crews' desk. "And tomorrow you need to wear something less…." she motioned from top to bottom to his navy uniform. "You need to wear plain clothes."

* * *

It was after 7PM, well past the end of their shift when Reese finally took pity on Stark and decided they could call it a night. His mobile rang (on silent) incessantly since 5PM.

"Wife?" Dani inquired.

"I told her to stop calling," Bobby complained.

"Be glad she still cares enough to worry," Reese commented.

Stark for once fell silent. Both Reese and Charlie were decidedly single. "Married to the job," the guys in the locker room called it. But maybe the young detective and his old partner had found something in common. He was wise enough not inquire, but he definitely suspected.

Charlie had gone to the ends of the earth to get her back from Roman. He'd broken every rule in the book and at the end of the misadventure they'd found the Russian "no one could hold onto" with a crushed windpipe inside a burned up SUV. Charlie did that. Everyone knew it, but no one could prove it. And he'd done it, at least in part, for Reese.

For her part, Detective Dani Reese was fiercely loyal to her tall red hair guardian angel and she'd been for far longer than anyone but Stark appreciated. She played her cards close to the vest, but he could see concern and attention in her comments, moods and simple gestures. She gave Crews a hard time, but it was the same way that only you could pick on your little brother. Her long storied past, rich with sexual encounters in the Department and without had gone quiet, except for her months long relationship with her Captain. That seemed to have cooled since sometime before Roman took her.

She grabbed her jacket and announced she "needed a beer" which Bobby knew was a dark attempt at humor. He ignored it and headed to the locker room to change. To his great surprise Reese was leaning against the wall in the hall when he emerged twenty minutes later.

"I can't drink with you," he confessed guiltily. "Charlie would kill me."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I want," she admitted. "I'm on the wagon."

He didn't look convinced.

"Three months sober," she pulled the chip from her pocket. His expression changed to one of befuddlement. "Crews has my car," she revealed.

"Ah," the light bulb went on for Stark. "You need a ride."

"I am not getting in another patrol car – ever," she stated flatly.

"Sure, come on," he turned and walked toward the parking garage. "Only don't tell my wife. He looked at Reese, assessing what Leslie would think of her. Small, fit, long wavy brown hair and eyes you could get lost in. "My wife would hate you."

"Your wife doesn't even know me," she commented.

"And with luck, she never will," he joked as they reached his car. It was a mini-van.

Reese looked surprised.

"What did you expect a Masserati?" Stark joked. "I got three boys. Leslie and me? We play taxi service most of the week. She's got one too. We are a two mini-van family. Sexy huh?"

Reese arched her brows. _So joking was still off limits_, he assessed.

"Climb in," he invited.

She buckled herself in. "Oh," she turned and faced him, "and we need to stop at Ho Chin's on San Isidro to pick something up." Her expression dared him to speak up, but Bobby sometimes reckless with his mouth.

"Charlie got you picking up his suits too?"

Her eyes turned darker and narrowed. She was quiet for long enough to make him nervous before she begrudgingly admitted, "dinner."

Stark smiled broadly. _They were soooo fucking and if they weren't Charlie Crews was a fucking moron. You don't bring a man dinner at his house unless you dig him_, he thought and started the car.


	8. Temptation & Taunts

There was a knock at his door, it was 7:30 and therefore it had to be Reese. He swung the door open without looking and found a rather imposing looking biker on his doorstep. He really needed to stop opening the door without looking he thought to himself.

"Uh….can I help you?" he asked the man.

"You Charlie Crews?" the biker looked him up and down. For all he'd been told, the tall, wiry man didn't seem that imposing; certainly not capable of killing a man with his bare hands.

"I'm Crews," Charlie replied neutrally. He noted the man's tattoos were Aryan Nation and that probably meant he'd like done time in one of the State's Federal Penitentiaries. "Folsom? Or Crescent City?"

"Both," the biker bragged, "but the food's better at Folsom."

"You didn't come here to talk about food," Crews morphed from the relaxed off duty LAPD cop to someone else, someone much more fearsome and it happened in an instant.

The biker noted the change in Crews. This man was dangerous and the biker now paid far more attention. The set of both men's bodies changed as they recognized and reacted to the threat before them. The air took on the distinct tang of testosterone and sweat.

"I have a message for you," the biker straightened staring his opponent in the eye.

Charlie inclined his head slightly, but said nothing.

"Kyle Hollis says….you took his family, now he's gonna take yours," the biker glowered. "Today was a demonstration."

"And who's holding Kyle's leash these days?" Charlie's voice was an octave lower and it rumbled across thin lips that barely moved. His smile was more like a snarl now.

"That's all I was paid to say," the man turned to leave.

Crews lightning fast move was surprising to the biker, but he locked his elbow through the burly man's armpit wrenching his arm behind him and slamming the tattooed white supremacist into the doorframe. "All you were paid to say, but not all that you know," Charlie sliced through the rhetoric looking for hidden truths.

"Fuck you, man," the biker grimaced. Another couple inches and Crews would dislocate his shoulder.

"I'm gonna ask you nicely one last time," Crews' tone was restrained, but the rage that boiled through him heated the room. "Who is holding Hollis' leash?"

"A cop," the man spat out. "Same cop, he worked for before he got locked up," he confessed.

Charlie released him, but as predicted the biker tried to swing around and punch him. Crews hit him once, violently; right in the eye, with the middle knuckle of his right hand raised a hair over his clenched fist. Ten inches lower and the man would be slowly suffocating to death like Roman Nevikov, but Crews didn't need that kind of attention.

The biker went to his knees.

"You'll wanna put some ice on that," Crews advised. "It's gonna swell." He shut the door in the man's face and locked it behind him.

Jack Reese was sending him a message. And that message was, I can take away what you love. Charlie wondered if he'd feel the same way if Jack Reese knew what Charlie really loved was the retired SWAT Captain's daughter….and if he'd hurt his own kid. But he couldn't afford to take that chance, not with Reese.

She meant everything to him and he wasn't willing to gamble with her life.

* * *

Bobby pulled his mini-van to a stop in front of 'Casa de Crews' as Stark annoyingly insisted on calling it. It was just a hair before 8PM. The car was warm with the smell of cashew chicken, beef and broccoli, egg rolls and something with pineapple in it that she imagined would set Crews' smile in the megawatt range.

Stark's stomach growled and Reese had to stifle a grin.

"You want me to wait," he inquired sliding his mirror shades down his nose.

She knew what he was thinking; and he knew that she knew. She smiled at him as she grabbed the plastic bag and exited his car. "Fuck off."

He laughed raucously. They'd do fine together. She cut him no slack whatsoever and he didn't ease up on her because she was a woman. He was just as big a dumbass with her as he was around Charlie or Juarez. He pulled off sharply.

No sense being chivalrous. Neither she nor Charlie would particularly appreciate the gesture. His cell buzzed in his pocket for the fiftieth time since 5PM and this time he answered. "Yeah, hon. I told you I'm on my way."

* * *

She got to the front door but before she could knock it swung open. She was ready for the easy smile and blue eyes of the man she was learning to appreciate that she cared for far more than she wanted to admit. But that's not what she got. The man who opened the door for her was someone else, someone far more lethal.

"Crews?" she questioned. "What's wrong?"

He painted on a plastic smile that did reach his eyes and tried to play it off. "What makes you think…" he reached for the bag in her hand, but she didn't let go. She demanded his eyes and when he looked back at her, she saw right through him.

"Let's talk about it later," he deferred as the pulled at the bag again, "I'm hungry."

"I'm not setting foot inside that house until you tell me what's going on," she dug in her heels. Her eyes were fierce and her body English sold it. She would not budge until he gave her what she wanted.

Crews knew he was beaten, but head-on wasn't the only way to fight. He stepped close, leaned his head down until he was close enough to whisper. Her body was tight and she wavered on the edge of flight. "I had a visit today from someone who we both know. He said what happened today was a warning," his tone was low and seductive. He watched the effect it had on his partner. She shivered slightly.

He gave Dani two things that were irresistible to her: a mystery and danger. He couldn't know that there was a third component to her excitement and that was his nearness, but he could hope.

"Come inside with me," he demanded of her as he lightly ran his hand down her arm to the wrist and then pulled. She came willingly.

All the way to his door, all Dani could think about were those three little words from AA. "I am powerless." It worked both ways. First, Crews was becoming an absolute addiction for her. And then there was the fact that they both really were powerless; pawns in a larger game, being played by unseen forces. It may have been that way all her life, but since she'd met Crews, she'd developed a true appreciation and hatred for it. But as her dislike and distrust of all she'd grown up knowing withered, her affection for and trust in Crews bloomed. Yet, somehow she remained powerless; it was like taking that lesson with her into the world every day of her life.

But under that lay another powerlessness, one she found evocative, delicious and exciting. It was him; his tone, the heat of his body, the way he smelled, his intention and his nearness. The feeling he was able to tease from her cynical shrunken heart was like discovering something new and exciting. It was like discovering you could walk again after being paralyzed. She knew he was playing her, and part of her liked it. The excitement and electricity with Crews wasn't just sexual. It wasn't just a spark, it was the hum of deep power and she felt it to the very core of her being. Crews could kill, but he could also create. That power was mesmerizing and maddening at the same time, it was a magnet that drew her to him… sometimes even when she wanted to push away. But she was determined to find out if he felt it too, and to do that she'd have to be rash and unpredictable.

He closed the door behind them and locked it. The tumbler fell into place with a resounding deep, audible click. He leaned against the door for a moment and just watched her. Now that he'd managed to get her inside, he needed to send her away.

Hollis' message promised to "take away his family." _Was Hollis referring to Rachel? Or was the message deeper? Did Jack Reese feel Crews had stolen his family; Dani and her mother, with whom Jack could no longer live?_ At any rate, Dani was on to her father and Jack's fear of Crews exposing his dirty deed and prison had driven him underground, away from his family. Either way there was risk to Dani and that wasn't something he'd tolerate.

But he couldn't just send her away like he had Rachel with a packet of money and expect her to obey. She wasn't a nineteen-year-old girl. Come to think of it, even at nineteen, he imagined Dani Reese couldn't be managed like Rachel had been. For all his niece's detachment and teenage angst, her soul was far more fragile than his partner's. Dani has endured her season in hell and emerged from it stronger than ever. She liked danger, she enjoyed risk and she was fiercely loyal. Driving her away would require something he wasn't sure he could summon….the pretense that he didn't care for her.

She seemed to consider him equally, her deep brown eyes regarding him with both caution and care. Something in her aspect changed in those moments. She was regal and yet rebellious. His body told him to be cautious, his heart told him not to listen to his body.

She turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen, depositing the Chinese take out on the large island there. She went to the fridge, opened the door, pulled out a bottle of Pellegrino, found a glass in the cupboard and poured herself a drink. She looked at the window at the blue of his pool glowing from the lights beneath.

"Use that much?" she questioned, sipping the mineral water.

"I don't tan," he said quietly repeating a conversation they'd had before. He carefully approached her, closing the distance between them. He had to tell her, and then he had to make her leave.

The glass she was holding made a hollow noise as she carefully placed it on the countertop and turned to face him. Her eyes were lit with mischief and mirth. She was going to enjoy this.

He was confused. The sideways cant of his head and concern in his eyes told her this. He had no idea what was coming. "Dani…I" he began, but he never got to finish.

She pushed him hard. Two hands against his chest. He staggered backwards and found himself against the island, but she was on him in an instant.

"What the hell?" he wondered aloud.

"Shut up," she demanded breathlessly as her body pressed against his. Both his hands were behind him on the island. She covered them with hers. She couldn't reach his mouth, he was a foot taller than her. He'd have to come to her, but there was no mistaking what she wanted from him.

For about a half a second, he considered pushing her away. It was what was best. It was what was smart, but it just wasn't them. They were both that boy with the wings flying too close to the sun. They'd be burnt, but first they'd be high.

He wanted to kiss her; he had for so long now. That and more…so much more. He lowered his head and gave himself to her. And she did not disappoint, she devoured his breath, then deliciously teased him by sucking on his lower lip. He deepened the kiss and their tongues tangled. They became intertwined and commingled, all without the use of their hands, which Dani had expertly removed from the equation. Every portion of their body that could touch did, but she was careful not to let it go too far. So long as she wasn't grasping him, she could back away, but they flared white hot and in an instant she knew her mistake.

He wasn't going to let her control him, not with this; not now, not ever.

He easily, pulled his hands from under hers and as she stepped back and broke contact - he advanced. He spun them and easily lifted her onto the counter. He stepped between her legs, licked his lips, buried his hands in her hair and took charge. She resisted for several moments as the long thrusts of his tongue distracted her. Her hands were planted firmly on the counter and she gripped it hard. If she could just keep from reaching for him...

His hands dropped to her ass and pulled her against him. His narrow hips sunk to the edge of the counter as he drew her body against his. She would forever imagine that the reason her hands came off that counter was because she thought she was going to fall, but she knew in her heart he'd never let go of her. Then she felt the heat of his body warm her arms as she wound them across his back and up his shoulder blades.

"Shit, " she swore softly, "stop."

He froze, but didn't break. He retreated a few inches and brown eyes met concerned blue. "Stop?" he sought to confirm. His bit his lower lip and watched her.

"Yes, no…" she shook here head.

"You started this," he stated his case.

"No," she insisted. "You did," she argued. "Out there in the street."

"Driveway," he corrected rubbing her back in small circles.

"I don't want this to get out of control," she shared her concern.

"Honey," he chuckled. "This is already out of control. Love is not something we control."

She scowled and he kissed her temple lightly. His breath was against her ear as he whispered the words, "and I love you. You know that I love you."

Her breath hitched and he kissed lower, along her jaw line, under her ear and his hand caressed her face and neck. He felt the shudder of her body and heard the long shaky breath leave her before his reclaimed her lips, softer this time, more deliberate, slower and while his first kisses held more fire, these were complete. He felt her give in to him. This was no longer a battle, but a coupling. She didn't want to control him, test him, tease him; she wanted to kiss him, to feel the strength of them together. That kiss lasted minutes. When they broke breathless, she reminded him of dinner.

"Yeah, okay," he said softly, gently placing her back on the ground. She composed herself and rearranged her clothes as he fetched plates and silverware. They sat at one end of his long dining room table, the one Rachel insisted he buy.

"Why do you have such a big dining room table?" she asked in between bites.

He laughed, perhaps for the first time since she'd met him. He told her about Rachel and the young girl's connection to her father.

To her credit, Dani took in the knowledge without comment or criticism. Then she asked, "so where is she?"

"I sent her away," he said somewhat sadly. "When Roman," he began, then rephrased. "Roman threatened her, so I asked her to leave. To go somewhere safe."

"There is nowhere safe," she said presciently. She took another bite of an eggroll, chewed thoughtfully and asked, "Is that what you intend for me?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "And you see how well that turned out."

"What happens now?"

He wiped his hands on his jeans and then one through his hair. "I don't know. My plan was to get you to leave and I'd do this on my own."

"That was your plan?" the sarcasm in her tone made him smile despite his failure.

"That was my plan," he confirmed. He realized she was about to have a chuckle at his expense, but this time he got to kiss her and that made it far less demoralizing.

"Well," she smiled haughtily, "your plan sucked."

"Hey," he objected. "You mean even after all that really great kissing back there," he hoisted a thumb towards the kitchen, "you can't be a little bit nice to me?"

Reese chewed on a piece of broccoli and considered his question. She made him wait for the response.

She sipped her water, wiped her mouth and then pronounced succinctly, "no."


End file.
